DC Playwrights

squirrel called me an infidel
when he saw me eating a bag of pork rinds
and drinking a glass of two percent milk.
as i sat in my cotton poly-blend boxers,
watching the best of the girls next door,
i asked “why you gotta be like that?”
squirrel said that skim milk was not halal,
“and don’t get me started on the pork rinds.”

“have you ever had a pork rind?” i asked.
“they’re delicious. try one.”
the squirrel refused.
i asked him,
“name one thing more delicious than pork rinds.”
the squirrel said, “ uhm … food?”

“come on – try one.”
the squirrel reluctantly reached into
the bag of pork rinds.
“damn, that is one tasty piece of fried flesh.”

all of a sudden the squirrel become feral,
sat down on the sofa, and said,
“skeeek, skeeek, skeeeeek,”
which i think is squirrel for
“give me the remote.”